Candy Canes and Mistletoe
by Frayed Misfit
Summary: A collection of Character Sketches written as Chritmas presents for all of my dearest friends, Merry Christmas everyone!
1. Silent Night

**General Author's Note: **This story will collectively publish the Christmas stories that I am writing for my friends, since there are so many I thought it best to put them as chapters to one fic. They are all completely different, focused on different characters and are to be viewed seperately rather than a whole. **As a general disclaimer** I am not J.K Rowling and am not making a profit for the pulication of these stories. So there.

**.Silent Night.**

Merry Christmas something-like-love

(For all of your support, your friendship and most of all your kindness)

When the snow spiraled onto their roof at Godric's Hollow Ariana felt that she was being saved, that someone was coming to take her away. If she listened carefully every snowflake was the footfall of an angel, the sneaky boot of a house-elf.

Abe sighed, running his hand through his hair, pulling at the corners of his ears in frustration, "But Ari, house elves don't save people, they don't have anything to do with Christmas."

Ariana wanted to form words, words shaped around wondrous fairy-tales, her voice as loud as the commentator at Quidditch matches, her eyes glowing with the drama of the story.

If only she could speak she would charm everyone with the stories in her head. They were all in her head.

No words came, but her hand pointed to the book that Al had bought her and then to the sound of the snow falling on the roof. Her eyes grew wide in anticipation, she had packed her bag, stuffed it full of candy-canes and ginger-bread.

(In her mind angels lived on peppermint and ginger, their breaths smelt like Christmas)

"No Ari." Abe pulled her stuffed bag out of her gloved hands, ignoring her trembling lip, her shaking knees, he leaned towards her, brushing a stray hair out of her eyesight.

"The books are just books, they're for muggles, and they're not real. It's only snow on the roof, and maybe rain."

But Ariana had heard songs floating from the muggle houses, they had sung about flying reindeers and magic elves and about presents at a place called the North Pole.

(when she closed her eyes she could picture it)

Al observed them from the other side of the room.

"Abe you have to let her dream. What else does she have?"

The younger brother turned to face Albus furiously, his eyes wide with emotion.

"What else does she have? She has life Albus! Life! This dreaming, all of these stupid ideas you put in her head, she just can't pretend this is a story."

"Aren't we all in a story?"

Abe fought to maintain his argument, turning back to his sister he found her gone.

She was in the courtyard, the snowflakes melting into her hair, becoming a part of her as if reuniting with an old friend.

Her arms were flung wide, her feet dancing on the icy cobblestones, tapping out the Christmas Carols she had heard, carried on the winter wind.

(If she opened her eyes she was with the other children, laughing and dancing)

The sky was filled with mistletoe.

The snow was the sound of someone coming to save her.

It was a Silent Night (no words could escape those peached lips).

Both of her brothers reached her at the same time, their arms wrapped around her frail form, their heads buried into her neck, she felt their hot tears and wished it was chocolate.

(She loved chocolate)

"Please Ari, not tonight, not on Christmas."

Abe dropped to his knees on the frozen ground. Ariana stopped her frenzied dance, her arms falling to her side.

Through the falling snow she couldn't see her brother but a figment of her imagination.

"Elf?"

She ran towards him, embracing not reality but a dream.

No one was coming to save her.


	2. Father Christmas

**Father Christmas**

Merry Christmas Cuban Sombrero Gal

(For everything that words can't really say)

Wrapping paper crunches like dead leaves underneath Sirius' bare feet, Lily hisses across the room at him, lifting her finger to her lip in warning.

It's a wonder that she can even recognise Sirius under his costume. When Lily had attempted to tell him about Father Christmas, he and James had collapsed into a pile, clutching their stomachs, it _was_ the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

(Well maybe it wasn't as ridiculous as the 'post man' story she had tried to tell him, or the story about the funny plastic bag things men put of their 'ahems' before having sex! Those were just simply _untrue!_)

He just couldn't believe how stupid muggles were, making up a story about a rather fat man clambering down their chimney every Christmas eve to deliver their presents. Firstly, if he was fat how he could get down the chimney was beyond Sirius' imagination, secondly, why would anyone be excited about a complete stranger bringing them presents? Wasn't the idea to get presents from people you actually knew?

And then even if this wasn't stupid enough, you made your children believe that such a man existed and even pretended that he had brought them things.

Lily had shaken her head in exasperation and rolled her eyes, and then she demanded that James lie to Harry about this fat man coming at Christmas time.

So Sirius had bought a ludicrous outfit from a muggle store that was suppose to be what 'Santa' looked like, complete with bulging belly and white beard and he was now pretending to deliver baby Harry's presents under their Christmas tree.

James was crawling around somewhere behind the couch, Sirius could hear his muffled giggles coming from that direction, and Lily, as usual, pretended that nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

That was what was great about Lily, she just shrugged her shoulders and continued with what she was doing, she had learnt a long time ago that Sirius and James would never grow up.

Sirius pranced around the room, the red and white fluffy hat on his head wobbling dangerously, the bells on his black belt jingling merrily.

"Shhhhhh!" Lily hissed again, her eyes narrowing.

But Sirius could see the smile behind her lips, her eyes were twinkling.

Remus emerged quietly through the front door, clutching an array of brightly wrapped presents.

When his eyes fell on Sirius who was mid-dance, he let out a loud laugh.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Sirius bounded towards his friend, enveloping him in a rather large and boisterous hug.

"I'm Father Christmas! You know that fat man that muggle parents lie to their children about!"

Lily shook her head again, pulling James out of his giggling fit behind the couch.

"It's not a lie! It's tradition!"

James managed to speak through his laughter, "Oh so that makes it alright? Because your mum and dad lied to you, we are going to lie to Harry and pretend Sirius is this crazy person?"

Lily laughed, "Well, it's not like I wanted Sirius to dress up like a loony!"

"I thought I looked kind of hot." Sirius pouted, pulling on his fake beard.

Lily rolled her eyes again (she seemed to be doing that a lot lately) but wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

"Thank you for making this so special Siri, this is the best Christmas ever."

Sirius took a little bow, unable to contain his happiness.

"It's the best Christmas I've ever had too."

And he meant it; he just didn't know that it would be their last.

"Merry Christmas."


	3. My Kind of Scene

**.My Kind of Scene.**

Merry Christmas queen-of-the-geese

(For our shared love of literature and for your constant support)

It's hard to feel warm in this house, filled with regrets and loathing, built of stone and white concrete. The staircases are too narrow, the lights too dim.

Regulus stands in the shadows, the newly inked dark mark causes a fire to spread through his veins, though it is not passion but anger that surges him forward.

Somewhere in the hallways and rooms above, Regulus can hear Kreacher murmuring Christmas carols, the elf always tried to please, keeping the fires burning well into the night, bringing Mama hot chocolate when she was too fatigued to leave her room.

He was rewarded with long drawn out sighs and more chores, when Father was alive he would pat Kreacher gruffly on the head, like some kind of stray dog, and with a firm affirmation of "Good elf" would then order him to another task.

It is as if Kreacher's life was inevitably bound up with Regulus'.

In the early hours of Christmas morning Regulus begins to understand what it means to crave acceptance and love.

He feels closer to the house elf now than another other being, standing in the in-between places of their house, he feels as if he has left something behind.

Perhaps it is free-will, for he is undeniably caught up in the will of others, always struggling to maintain his mother's affection, his father's dead approval, his cousin's acceptance.

He is silently terrified of stepping out of place, of not doing what was expected of him, and so he listens, his ears and heart attuned to the desires of those around him.

His life was not his own.

He makes his way to the kitchen, pulling a dusty mug from out of a cupboard and boils some water on the stove.

"No master, I do this, you sit down master."

Kreacher hurries in behind him, pushing him gently to the side, his small withered hands reaching for the mug clasped in Regulus' hand.

Through the cold December air Regulus forces himself to speak, his eyes dance with tears he did not know he had.

"Don't you understand Kreacher, you and I are the same." He pulls the mug closer to his chest, determined to make his mother's morning hot chocolate.

Kreacher stands on the tips of his toes, struggling in vain to reach the mug, his little hands strike the top of Regulus' legs.

"Master is talking in riddles, master and Kreacher is not the same. Master has freedom."

"No Kreacher, I am bound to my family in the same way you are; I can only do the things they want me to do."

He holds the elf's hands in one of his own; the water on the stove is boiling.

"Let me make Mama's chocolate, I need to Kreacher."

The elf shakes his head in confusion, but slowly backs away, his eyes narrowed slightly as if suspicious.

"Kreacher must obey master Regulus, especially on Christmas."

Regulus lets out a small laugh; it mingles with the steam in the air and falls short of the hallway.

"Yes, Merry Christmas Kreacher, Merry Christmas."


	4. A Frozen Garden Patch

**.A Frozen Garden Patch.**

Merry Christmas LexieH

(For understanding each other so well!)

Lily presses her nose against the misted window; her feet, covered in multi-coloured socks, are tucked beside her as she sits in the bay window, gazing out across the frozen garden patch.

She thought that returning home for Christmas would clear her head, but she is closer to Severus now than she was at school.

In this snow white world boundaries have been removed.

In this place where they spent their childhood there are no prejudices, just memories falling like snowflakes into a hard and unforgiving earth.

His house is across the little river, it is frozen now, the polluted water and old junk is trapped for a few months, still and unmoving.

They use to skate along it, his hand tight in her own, her lips a deep red from the biting cold. He looked awkward and spider-like with skates on, she use to have to bite her lip to stop from laughing, his pride was one that was easily wounded.

Lily traces the picture of a snow mane on the frosted window, stubbornly shaking her head of memories that should have faded.

It is strange that she thinks of him most clearly when she is about to see James.

She doesn't like to think of it as guilt, isn't it natural to think of old friends at Christmas time? But the way that Severus' image twists her stomach and makes her eyes water is frustrating.

She untucks her feet, leaning back from the window as if repulsed by being that inch closer to Severus.

She had forgotten why she hated him now, why it was impossible to heal the wounds that he had inflicted with his sharp tongue.

"_Mudblood."_

So Lily moves on, reaching for her steaming hot chocolate she wraps her hands around it, her fingers have forgotten his touch now, his thin and calloused hands that were always cold.

She presses her nose against the misted window pane.

James is walking across the frozen garden patch; he is much closer than Severus now.

She watches his feet fall untidily in the snow, his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his cloak. She jumps to her feet and runs to the door, her multi-coloured socks running through the newly fallen snow.

His arms are around her before the wet ground reaches through to her toes and all she can see is the little snowflakes that have stuck to his glasses, making his eyes behind them look like little snow globes.

He lifts her up into his embrace, nuzzling his head into the crevice of her neck.

He smells like gingerbread and peppermint.

"I love you."

He murmurs into her copper hair, she weaves her arms into his cloak, snuggling as far into his body as she can go.

"My feet are freezing." She remembers, dragging him back into the house and shutting the door on her past, on her faded memories of frozen rivers and sharp noses.


	5. Stretched and Stained

**.Stretched and Stained.**

Merry Christmas TheOriginalHufflepuff

(For our shared love of Remus)

Remus can't see the words on the newspaper, they are stretched and stained now, caught somewhere between reality and insanity.

Yet he can't stop pretending, his eyes trailing along inky passages, his mind unable to comprehend what each letter symbolises. His hands pretend to flip through the pages, his thumbs stained with black.

(none of this ever happened, this can't be the end)

It's been only fifty-five days since Remus lost himself, he counted each of them in the daily newspapers discarded against the opposite wall.

But he has forgotten what each day represents, he is frozen in memories of traitors and ghosts.

He is not angry or sad anymore, just empty and vacant, hollow inside, infertile and alone.

He struggles to keep his eyes open because in the early hours of the morning they scramble closed and then he dreams of Sirius, his hands covered in James' blood.

He wakes covered in sweat and shaking, his heart racing to find himself alone in the darkened room, the candle on the coffee table dripping wax all over his newspaper.

But there is a new newspaper today, and in the top right hand corner Remus' eyes focus on the date the twenty-fifth of December.

But he can't remember why that should mean something, because nothing means anything anymore.

(without them)


	6. Let it Snow

**.Let it Snow.**

Merry Christmas Dizi

(For the bookmark and the postcard and well, everything)

"I wish that Christmas was in summer time."

Luna suggests with her feet curled up in front of her, her head resting thoughtfully on one knee.

Her father sits before her weaving fine pieces of metal together with his wand, his cloak today is a patchwork of green, gold and red, 'to get in the festive mood'.

"Why is that my Luna?"

She nibbles on the side of her lip thoughtfully, her eyes flickering to the brooding sky, its dense clouds thick with the promise of snow.

"Because then we could go and hunt Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, like we do during the summer."

"Ho ho!" Xenophilius chuffs, "Your mind is so consumed with what could be that you are not thinking of the present. Do you really think that I would let us just sit inside on Christmas?"

Luna lifts her head from her knees revealing a pair of brightly painted snowmen earrings, a small frown briefly filtering across her open face.

"But it looks like it's going to snow, and the little river is all frozen over, and …"

(Mama is dead too)

Her father points empathetically at the bundle of woven metal in front of him; it now resembles a kind of wired sieve, used for straining hot noodles or potatoes.

"and what creature can only be seen when it snows, and is most commonly found on Christmas?"

He questions, allowing the metal cage to levitate in the air towards his daughter, she catches it, her mouth slightly ajar.

"A … A Blibbering Humdinger?"

Her father allows a tiny nod of his head, which is all Luna needs before she is in his arms, her head buried into his neck, he smells like rusty nails and sea salt, like dreams and beliefs.

"'Oh thank you, thank you daddy! Wow, a Blibbering Humdinger would be the best Christmas present ever."

Xenophilius smiles, brushing back his daughter's hair fondly from her face and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"We must be patient now and wait for the snow."

She leaps from his embrace, throws open the nearest window and calls into the wind.

"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"


End file.
